Katee Platime
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“Hey, Jim,” the retired educator had a delightful expression. “How about the Bobcats?”
“Just another example of Black excellence,” the co-owner smiled at the skinny, octogenarian.
“I’ll drink to that,” the woman whose dark dyed hair was pulled back into a chignon lifted her bloody mary.
“Alright, Ruth, ladies,” he acknowledged the others at the table. “I gotta check on something real quick. Excuse me for a moment?”
The woman had been referring to Asheboro-Semmes Regional High School’s boys’ golf team. Coached by Eldon Buggs, the varsity squad had just become the first all-Black state championship team. It was a feat that very few imagined would ever have happened in the former Jim Crow state. Determination, drills, & discipline enabled the Bobcats to overcome adversity and rise to the very top.
Hang on...This is not some feel-good story about disadvantaged or at-risk inner city youth who are introduced to the sport of golf by a smart, all-powerful coach that takes the from the ghetto to the links. Ashboro-Semmes Regional did have some pupils that lived on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale. About 31% of its student body received free or reduced-price lunches. But, the school also had a significant number of k**s coming from household on the higher end of the scale.
Coach Buggs’ varsity roster consisted of 10 athletes who competed weekly for six spots to suit up at matches against other teams. Of that group, just two came from outside the posh Semmes area ZIP code. The boys’ parents were mainly pharmacists, engineers, doctors, lawyers, professors, managers, & business owners. The official six in the finals included a junior that was a recipient of the free lunch program. Their worlds were vastly different, yet they were team.
The local golf community felt a deep sense of pride in the Bobcats. There was a strong connection to the group of intelligent, young Black men. The student-athletes were the next generation of great minds, community leaders, & achievers. Most Black golfers in the area were either members of Green Meadow Golf & Tennis Club or played rounds there paying public fees.
James G. Newton, Sr., commonly called Jim, walked briskly towards the clubhouse. He was running late for a staff meeting. He and three partners purchased Green Meadow several years ago. The Black men had revitalized the establishment that now boasted a prominent profile in the Town of Semmes. It was the course the newly crowned state champs practiced and hosted matches.
--------------------------
Walking along the hall, Eldon Buggs swelled with pride as he was congratulated by the Bobcats family. He made it to his classroom and unlocked the door. His first period was AP U.S. History. He sat at the desk.
“Great work, coach,” the first student to enter said.
“Thanks, Gianni! How was your weekend?”
“It was good,” lisped the 18 year-old senior with glowing golden-brown skin and vibrant brown eyes.
“Good to hear!”
“I wish I’d signed up to go with y’all to the tournament though.”
“I tried to tell you,” grinned the 5’10” inshape man.
“You really did, coach! Next time I’ll listen to you.”
“You better,” Eldon smirked.
The remaining students filed inside. Coach Buggs stood up to begin his lecture.
Gianni paid attention to the athletically built, pecan-brown man with the shaved head and stubbly goatee. He had been flirting with the coach for a while now. He found the man sexy and authoritative. The truth was that he didn’t take the trip because he spent the weekend getting fucked by the pastor of his church.
“Take this dick, baby,” ordered the ex-convict preacher.
“Yes, sir! Fuck my bussy!”
“Oh yeah, boo! This is some good ass, boipussy!”
“That dick is opening my booty hole up, nigga,” cooed Gianni.
“That’s right, faggit! You da best dick taker!”
“Am I, Daddy! Am I better than First Lady!”
“Yeah! That prude can’t take no dick!”
“Fuck me!”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ your faggit ass like you a girl!”
“I’m your girl, Daddy!”
Rev. Junior Hill had a wife and a daughter who were away for a pageant that weekend. At 45, he had turned his life around spending seven years in prison for d**g trafficking. He was the pastor of Ephesus Primitive Baptist, but he had a penchant for femme bottoms. He liked sissies and trannies before the penitentiary and his obsession flourished while locked up. He’d been fucking the curvy Gianni for going on two year now.
Men typically loved Gianni’s natural pear-shaped build. Rev. Hill was no exception. He had a 32-inch waist and a 34-inch chest with a 40-inch ass. His hips and butt were round and swayed seductively when he walked.
Coach Buggs, too, had spent longer than was appropriate looking at Gianni’s backside. He even had a couple dreams about hitting it from the back.
----------------
Over at Green Meadow, the staff meeting was coming to an end. The co-owners huddled remained seated at the table. Jim called out, “Michale, can you wait for me?” The dining services manager nodded and stepped outside the door.
The men, all in their 60s, discussed the situation and debated the virtues of building an Olympic size swimming pool.
Jim, the West Indian immigrant that owned a restaurant & hospitality group, was for it.
George F. Rosser, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant colonel and current cyber & data security consultant, also thought it was a good idea.
Henry Chatman, a former utilities co-op executive, was on the fence.
And, Ray Armstrong, the no longer practicing dentist, was currently opposed.
The foursome knew they would not reach an amicable decision right then so they decided to meet for dinner and cast votes later in the week.
Jim found Michale seated just outside the conference room.
“How can I help you, sir,” inquired the waist-high, wide-assed food services professional.
“I wanted to go over the upcoming events schedule. Can we go to your office.”
“Sure!”
Jim followed Michale. He had employed the 5’5”, caramel skinned worker for nearly 15 years. He scanned the hourglass figure as he followed Michale out of the clubhouse and along the footpath to the kitchen. He liked the body that measured 39” through the chest; 36” at the waist, & 51” around the hips.
George Rosser, whose son was a senior on the Bobcats golf team, grumbled. “Jim, Jim, Jim.”
“What,” asked Armstrong.
“You think he’s fucking that fruitcake,” Chatman check.
Armstrong adamantly rejected the notion. “Marie would kill him.”
“They’re interaction are odd sometimes, but he wouldn’t bring his side piece to the workplace, right,” inquired George.
“Certainly not,” Dr. Armstrong gasped.
“Y’all are probably right. I better get home,” George let it go.
Michale offered Jim a seat.
Jim locked the door behind him and said, “I don’t really have anything to talk about except your mouth on my cock!”
“Yes, Daddy,” grinned Michale. The restaurant manager assumed the position and pulled out the engorged, overly thick 8-½ inch dick. He sucked as sloppily as always. Spit dripped everywhere. Michale got up and bent over the desk. His spread his ample cheeks apart and gyrated as he begged Jim to enter him.
“Yeah, Mickey,” Jim exhaled. “This is what I needed.”
“You needed my big booty, Daddy,” inquired the dumpy flamer.
“Yes, fag! I want it all the time!”
“I want your dick too!”
“I love this ass,” he kneaded the doughy, dimpled butt cheeks.
“Fuck me, Mr. Newton!”
“Oh, Mickey! Take this dick!”
“I love your Caribbean dick, nigga! Fuck my fat booty!”
“Yeah, bitch! Take all this dick!”
Jim slammed with all his might. The 64 year-old had taken a sexual enhancement pill that morning and his calendar was clear. Although, he couldn’t spend hours fucking his fruit loop right now, he was going to make it as lengthy as possible. “You’re pussy is the best!”
“Thank you, Daddy! It’s your ass,” whined Michale.
“Your ass is addictive, baby gurl!”
“And your dick feels amazing,” the sissy lifted his leg onto the desk.
“Yeah! Let me all up in that faggit pussy hole!”
“Fuck me! Fuck me like a bitch!”
“Damn, Mickey. Your pussy is wet.”
The slurping and popping drove Jim wild. He had to release. After collecting his breath, he cleaned up with wet wipes and left the office. “See you later.”
---------------------------
The bell rang. Gianni stood when Coach Buggs dismissed the class.
“Gianni,” the teacher blurted. “You wanna sing the national anthem at the golf banquet in this Saturday?”
“Totally,” the performer smiled broadly.
“You’ll get a free meal too.”
“Sweet!”
“Here’s the details,” he handed the student a flyer.
Coach Buggs walked to the gym and went into the coach offices. He and the athletic director spent a few minutes looking at ring designs for the team online.
“I wish we hadn’t already scheduled the banquet,” said his boss.
“Me too. It’d be great to give them the rings there,” he replied to the woman.
“I know, right?!? Green Meadow is booked out for a while. It’s wedding season.”
“Figures.”
“But we can get individual trophies in time. And we have the budget for it.”
“Awesome! Let’s do it.”
“Get with Lawanda,” she advised him.
As Buggs exited her office, Faye Bailey was giving side-eye. She thought how indignant of him to try to delegate the work of getting the awards ordered to her. He must have been tripping. She served no one. Never had, never would. Except for her partner, l****a, whose pussy she ate nearly every night. She laughed to herself and returned to completing regulatory paperwork.
----------------------
After school, the golf team didn’t have to practice as the season was concluded. Ryker Smith got into Volkswagen Passat once driven by his mother. He tossed an envelope on the passenger seat. It was from his physics teacher and addressed to Dr. Marianne Hirsch & Dr. Jabbar Smith - Ryker’s parents who were both college professors. He drove home to the sprawling one-story house with post-and-beam construction, an open-air courtyard entrance and floor-to-ceiling windows. He parked beside his mom’s late model Toyota Prius and went inside.
“Hey, sweetie,” the bohemian mother said.
“Hi, mom.”
“How was school?”
“Good.”
She was used to one word answers and even grunts. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Pizza.”
“Just order what you want.”
“Oh here,” he gave her the envelope. “Can I have some of the team over after the banquet?”
“Dad and I won’t be here. How many people?”
“Just Foster, Diaz, and Rosser. Three.”
“No parties.”
“Mom, I won’t.”
Ryker walked away texting his friends that they were invited Saturday night. He was looking forward to hanging with his boys. He stood out in contrast to his non-conformist parents and older sister. They were hippies and liberal; he was more conservative and mainstream. He enjoyed participating in the “domineering, oppressive patriarchy of organized sports and exclusionary social constructs”.
Ryker’s mom feared he was bound to live a life of toxic masculinity. His dad imagined his son was overcompensating for being biracial and figured it would pass.
Ryker knew it was just his personality. He didn’t want to subjugate anyone. He just liked sports and competition. At any rate, having an irreligious Jewish mother and a socially liberal Black father, allowed him a bit of leeway which he used right up to the point of crossing the line.
------------------------
“What’s up, guys,” George nodded his head while sitting at the bar in the kitchen.
“Hi, Col. Rosser. How’s it going,” Lance Foster inquired.
“Hey, dad,” Mason Rosser said opening the fridge.
“I’m about to run to the store. Let the dog out.”
“Okay!”
“Party Saturday night,” exclaimed Lance.
“Hell yeah, bruh,” George pumped his fist.
“It’s gonna be epic!”
---------------------------
There was a decent crowd at the banquet that Saturday evening, Gianni delivered a soulful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner. The food was delicious. The boys and girls looked great. There were tons of pictures taken.
Ryker Smith split off with his buddies. They decided to depart.
Lance walked past Gianni on the way to his Jeep Wrangler. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Waiting on my ride,” replied the singer.
“Nah, cuz. I can drop you off wherever you’re going.”
“I live over in Ashford Hills,” he frowned at the mention of the working class neighborhood.
“That’s not far. Let’s go!”
Lance started the SUV. The dark chocolate senior with a debonair moustache looked at Gianni and said, “Gotta wait on Kobe.”
Gianni shook his head and sat back. He saw the peanut butter brown, 6’1” Kobe Diaz coming towards the vehicle. He could see that the guy was shredded underneath the button down shirt. He remembered seeing the junior shirtless once after a football game - the body was on point. He twitched in his seat.
“Wassup y’all,” Kobe asked as he jumped in the front passenger seat.
“We gotta drop off Gee back there,” Lance stated.
“Bet,” Kobe replied.
“You wanna hang with us before you go home,” Lance inquired. “We’re going to Ryker’s house.”
“I mean that’s cool. I don’t have a curfew or anything,” Gianni revealed.
“It’s a plan. Just gotta stop by my house real quick.”
Gianni took in the impressive Greek Revival house. ‘These folks got money,’ he thought. ‘I’ll be like them some day.’
When they arrived at the residence, Mason was already there. Ryker was ordering pizza and wings for later. Lance pulled out a bottle of gin he’d swiped from his parents’ liquor cabinet. He poured a glass for everyone.
They hung out in the sleek kitchen. Gianni asked if anyone else needed more ice. He took the cups to the fridge. He had to step past Lance.
Lance didn’t move his leg.
“I’m sorry,” Gianni apologized.
“You’re cool,” Lance grinned while staring intently. “You know he sang the hell outta that song, man!”
“Thanks!”
“No problem. I gotta tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, oh, oh,” Kobe hopped around the room.
“What, nigga,” Ryker admonished.
“Lance about to tell Gee what’s up.”
“For real,” checked Mason.
“I don’t see why not,” snapped Lance.
“Tell me what,” Gianni inquired.
“Uhhhh,” Lance dawdled.
“Just say it, bruh,” Ryker told him.
“Gee,” Lance cleared his throat. “Everybody at school thinks you have the baddest body.”
“Yeah,” Kobe emoted as he and Ryker slapped hands.
Mason added, “Guys and girls.”
“Seriously,” Gianni blushed.
“Yep,” Lance confirmed.
“I had no idea,” the effeminate guest shared.
“You for real,” Kobe shot back. “You know that ass is massive. And niggas like ass!”
“That’s a fact,” Mason chuckled.
“I guess I know some men find it attractive,” relented Gianni.
“You should let us fuck you, Gee,” Lance suggested.
All four golfers surrounded him. They fondled his abundant booty. Their heavy breathing created a sauna around him. He could smell the designer cologne and manliness. “I think y’all are cute and all.”
“Just cute,” Ryker asked.
“Well, handsome. But, I’ve never had a train run on me,” admitted Gianni.
“Don’t you want to,” Lance pressed.
“Have another drink,” instructed Kobe.
“Sure. I’ve thought about it before,” Gianni gave in.
“The bathroom is the third door on the right. And the guest bedroom is at the end of the hall on the right. You can go on and freshen up,” Ryker explained.
Gianni headed down the hallway of the California Rambler style house. He found a towel set and box of disposable douches. The team had planned this. He cleaned out his pussy hole and went into the bedroom. There was a big container of petroleum jelly on the nightstand. He lubed his rectum.
“Be bent over the corner of the bed,” yelled Lance.
“Face down. Ass up,” Mason commanded.
Gianni put his head on the bed. He spread his feet slightly apart. He heard them enter the room.
Ryker announced he was going first. “Put those legs together,” he ordered. He squeezed and massaged the big booty in front of him. He slid the G-string to the side. He stuffed his beige 8-inch dick in the little brown hole. “Oh shit! It’s tight y’all! Take this dick, you faggit!”
Gianni wailed, “Owwwww! Be gentle.”
“Shut up,” Ryker barked. “Take it!”
“Oh, god! Fuck me!”
Ryker pounded furiously. “You got some good pussy.” He jackhammered the bottom and pulled out to cum on his back.
Mason Rosser went next. He a dusky yellow complexion which darkened easily in the sun. His cock stuck out and had a downward hook. He put it in.
Gianni purred, “Yeah, baby! Fuck me!”
“Dammit, boi! You’re a real bitch!”
“You like this big ass booty.”
“Yeah,” Mason grunted and removed his member right before nutting.
Kobe stepped up to the plate. He thrust inside with no hesitation. “I been wantin’ to fuck you for a minute,” he confessed. “Take my dick, fag!”
“Gimme that dick,” purred Gianni
“That’s right, sissy boi! Throw that ass back on this dick!”
“Fuck me!”
“Make you my side chick!”
“Oh my god, Kobe! Fuck me!”
“Yeah, bitch!”
Kobe beat it up with his strong 8¼-inch tool. “You like this dick, bitch?”
“Yes sir!”
“This booty good!”
Kobe extracted his meat and shot his load on an old blanket put down specifically for that purpose.
Lance lined up behind the colossal ass. He slapped it and remarked, “You’re a sexy ass fat booty panty wearing bitch!”
“Thank you,” Gianni gyrated his fanny.
“I’m about to tear you up!”
“Oh, Lance!”
He entered the open hole with his 9-inch dick. He plunged in with reckless abandon. He played with the pliable cheeks as he dug out the boipussy.
“Damn, nigga,” cooed Gianni. “Fuck me!”
“Hell yeah, sissy! This pussy is fire!”
“Give it to me, Lance!”
“Ooh wee!”
“I love that dick, boo!”
“This fag pussy is gripping my dick so good. You’d make me marry you in prison!”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah! Everybody would know I was fucking your phat ass!”
“Yes, sir! Pound this pussy!”
“That good boipussy,” Lance added.
Lance was nearing orgasm. He pulled out and jerked off shooting jizz on Gianni’s back.
“Stay right here,” Ryker decreed. “We’ll be back for round two. Then we’ll get you a car back home.”
“Yes, sir! May I have some water?”
“Okay, but drink a little more liquor first,” Ryker negotiated.
“You got it,” the obedient sissy agreed.
“I’ll be right back with it.”
Gianni drank the gin and cranberry juice. Then he gulped down the water as he waited on the Negroes to return.
“Just another example of Black excellence,” the co-owner smiled at the skinny, octogenarian.
“I’ll drink to that,” the woman whose dark dyed hair was pulled back into a chignon lifted her bloody mary.
“Alright, Ruth, ladies,” he acknowledged the others at the table. “I gotta check on something real quick. Excuse me for a moment?”
The woman had been referring to Asheboro-Semmes Regional High School’s boys’ golf team. Coached by Eldon Buggs, the varsity squad had just become the first all-Black state championship team. It was a feat that very few imagined would ever have happened in the former Jim Crow state. Determination, drills, & discipline enabled the Bobcats to overcome adversity and rise to the very top.
Hang on...This is not some feel-good story about disadvantaged or at-risk inner city youth who are introduced to the sport of golf by a smart, all-powerful coach that takes the from the ghetto to the links. Ashboro-Semmes Regional did have some pupils that lived on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale. About 31% of its student body received free or reduced-price lunches. But, the school also had a significant number of k**s coming from household on the higher end of the scale.
Coach Buggs’ varsity roster consisted of 10 athletes who competed weekly for six spots to suit up at matches against other teams. Of that group, just two came from outside the posh Semmes area ZIP code. The boys’ parents were mainly pharmacists, engineers, doctors, lawyers, professors, managers, & business owners. The official six in the finals included a junior that was a recipient of the free lunch program. Their worlds were vastly different, yet they were team.
The local golf community felt a deep sense of pride in the Bobcats. There was a strong connection to the group of intelligent, young Black men. The student-athletes were the next generation of great minds, community leaders, & achievers. Most Black golfers in the area were either members of Green Meadow Golf & Tennis Club or played rounds there paying public fees.
James G. Newton, Sr., commonly called Jim, walked briskly towards the clubhouse. He was running late for a staff meeting. He and three partners purchased Green Meadow several years ago. The Black men had revitalized the establishment that now boasted a prominent profile in the Town of Semmes. It was the course the newly crowned state champs practiced and hosted matches.
--------------------------
Walking along the hall, Eldon Buggs swelled with pride as he was congratulated by the Bobcats family. He made it to his classroom and unlocked the door. His first period was AP U.S. History. He sat at the desk.
“Great work, coach,” the first student to enter said.
“Thanks, Gianni! How was your weekend?”
“It was good,” lisped the 18 year-old senior with glowing golden-brown skin and vibrant brown eyes.
“Good to hear!”
“I wish I’d signed up to go with y’all to the tournament though.”
“I tried to tell you,” grinned the 5’10” inshape man.
“You really did, coach! Next time I’ll listen to you.”
“You better,” Eldon smirked.
The remaining students filed inside. Coach Buggs stood up to begin his lecture.
Gianni paid attention to the athletically built, pecan-brown man with the shaved head and stubbly goatee. He had been flirting with the coach for a while now. He found the man sexy and authoritative. The truth was that he didn’t take the trip because he spent the weekend getting fucked by the pastor of his church.
“Take this dick, baby,” ordered the ex-convict preacher.
“Yes, sir! Fuck my bussy!”
“Oh yeah, boo! This is some good ass, boipussy!”
“That dick is opening my booty hole up, nigga,” cooed Gianni.
“That’s right, faggit! You da best dick taker!”
“Am I, Daddy! Am I better than First Lady!”
“Yeah! That prude can’t take no dick!”
“Fuck me!”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ your faggit ass like you a girl!”
“I’m your girl, Daddy!”
Rev. Junior Hill had a wife and a daughter who were away for a pageant that weekend. At 45, he had turned his life around spending seven years in prison for d**g trafficking. He was the pastor of Ephesus Primitive Baptist, but he had a penchant for femme bottoms. He liked sissies and trannies before the penitentiary and his obsession flourished while locked up. He’d been fucking the curvy Gianni for going on two year now.
Men typically loved Gianni’s natural pear-shaped build. Rev. Hill was no exception. He had a 32-inch waist and a 34-inch chest with a 40-inch ass. His hips and butt were round and swayed seductively when he walked.
Coach Buggs, too, had spent longer than was appropriate looking at Gianni’s backside. He even had a couple dreams about hitting it from the back.
----------------
Over at Green Meadow, the staff meeting was coming to an end. The co-owners huddled remained seated at the table. Jim called out, “Michale, can you wait for me?” The dining services manager nodded and stepped outside the door.
The men, all in their 60s, discussed the situation and debated the virtues of building an Olympic size swimming pool.
Jim, the West Indian immigrant that owned a restaurant & hospitality group, was for it.
George F. Rosser, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant colonel and current cyber & data security consultant, also thought it was a good idea.
Henry Chatman, a former utilities co-op executive, was on the fence.
And, Ray Armstrong, the no longer practicing dentist, was currently opposed.
The foursome knew they would not reach an amicable decision right then so they decided to meet for dinner and cast votes later in the week.
Jim found Michale seated just outside the conference room.
“How can I help you, sir,” inquired the waist-high, wide-assed food services professional.
“I wanted to go over the upcoming events schedule. Can we go to your office.”
“Sure!”
Jim followed Michale. He had employed the 5’5”, caramel skinned worker for nearly 15 years. He scanned the hourglass figure as he followed Michale out of the clubhouse and along the footpath to the kitchen. He liked the body that measured 39” through the chest; 36” at the waist, & 51” around the hips.
George Rosser, whose son was a senior on the Bobcats golf team, grumbled. “Jim, Jim, Jim.”
“What,” asked Armstrong.
“You think he’s fucking that fruitcake,” Chatman check.
Armstrong adamantly rejected the notion. “Marie would kill him.”
“They’re interaction are odd sometimes, but he wouldn’t bring his side piece to the workplace, right,” inquired George.
“Certainly not,” Dr. Armstrong gasped.
“Y’all are probably right. I better get home,” George let it go.
Michale offered Jim a seat.
Jim locked the door behind him and said, “I don’t really have anything to talk about except your mouth on my cock!”
“Yes, Daddy,” grinned Michale. The restaurant manager assumed the position and pulled out the engorged, overly thick 8-½ inch dick. He sucked as sloppily as always. Spit dripped everywhere. Michale got up and bent over the desk. His spread his ample cheeks apart and gyrated as he begged Jim to enter him.
“Yeah, Mickey,” Jim exhaled. “This is what I needed.”
“You needed my big booty, Daddy,” inquired the dumpy flamer.
“Yes, fag! I want it all the time!”
“I want your dick too!”
“I love this ass,” he kneaded the doughy, dimpled butt cheeks.
“Fuck me, Mr. Newton!”
“Oh, Mickey! Take this dick!”
“I love your Caribbean dick, nigga! Fuck my fat booty!”
“Yeah, bitch! Take all this dick!”
Jim slammed with all his might. The 64 year-old had taken a sexual enhancement pill that morning and his calendar was clear. Although, he couldn’t spend hours fucking his fruit loop right now, he was going to make it as lengthy as possible. “You’re pussy is the best!”
“Thank you, Daddy! It’s your ass,” whined Michale.
“Your ass is addictive, baby gurl!”
“And your dick feels amazing,” the sissy lifted his leg onto the desk.
“Yeah! Let me all up in that faggit pussy hole!”
“Fuck me! Fuck me like a bitch!”
“Damn, Mickey. Your pussy is wet.”
The slurping and popping drove Jim wild. He had to release. After collecting his breath, he cleaned up with wet wipes and left the office. “See you later.”
---------------------------
The bell rang. Gianni stood when Coach Buggs dismissed the class.
“Gianni,” the teacher blurted. “You wanna sing the national anthem at the golf banquet in this Saturday?”
“Totally,” the performer smiled broadly.
“You’ll get a free meal too.”
“Sweet!”
“Here’s the details,” he handed the student a flyer.
Coach Buggs walked to the gym and went into the coach offices. He and the athletic director spent a few minutes looking at ring designs for the team online.
“I wish we hadn’t already scheduled the banquet,” said his boss.
“Me too. It’d be great to give them the rings there,” he replied to the woman.
“I know, right?!? Green Meadow is booked out for a while. It’s wedding season.”
“Figures.”
“But we can get individual trophies in time. And we have the budget for it.”
“Awesome! Let’s do it.”
“Get with Lawanda,” she advised him.
As Buggs exited her office, Faye Bailey was giving side-eye. She thought how indignant of him to try to delegate the work of getting the awards ordered to her. He must have been tripping. She served no one. Never had, never would. Except for her partner, l****a, whose pussy she ate nearly every night. She laughed to herself and returned to completing regulatory paperwork.
----------------------
After school, the golf team didn’t have to practice as the season was concluded. Ryker Smith got into Volkswagen Passat once driven by his mother. He tossed an envelope on the passenger seat. It was from his physics teacher and addressed to Dr. Marianne Hirsch & Dr. Jabbar Smith - Ryker’s parents who were both college professors. He drove home to the sprawling one-story house with post-and-beam construction, an open-air courtyard entrance and floor-to-ceiling windows. He parked beside his mom’s late model Toyota Prius and went inside.
“Hey, sweetie,” the bohemian mother said.
“Hi, mom.”
“How was school?”
“Good.”
She was used to one word answers and even grunts. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Pizza.”
“Just order what you want.”
“Oh here,” he gave her the envelope. “Can I have some of the team over after the banquet?”
“Dad and I won’t be here. How many people?”
“Just Foster, Diaz, and Rosser. Three.”
“No parties.”
“Mom, I won’t.”
Ryker walked away texting his friends that they were invited Saturday night. He was looking forward to hanging with his boys. He stood out in contrast to his non-conformist parents and older sister. They were hippies and liberal; he was more conservative and mainstream. He enjoyed participating in the “domineering, oppressive patriarchy of organized sports and exclusionary social constructs”.
Ryker’s mom feared he was bound to live a life of toxic masculinity. His dad imagined his son was overcompensating for being biracial and figured it would pass.
Ryker knew it was just his personality. He didn’t want to subjugate anyone. He just liked sports and competition. At any rate, having an irreligious Jewish mother and a socially liberal Black father, allowed him a bit of leeway which he used right up to the point of crossing the line.
------------------------
“What’s up, guys,” George nodded his head while sitting at the bar in the kitchen.
“Hi, Col. Rosser. How’s it going,” Lance Foster inquired.
“Hey, dad,” Mason Rosser said opening the fridge.
“I’m about to run to the store. Let the dog out.”
“Okay!”
“Party Saturday night,” exclaimed Lance.
“Hell yeah, bruh,” George pumped his fist.
“It’s gonna be epic!”
---------------------------
There was a decent crowd at the banquet that Saturday evening, Gianni delivered a soulful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner. The food was delicious. The boys and girls looked great. There were tons of pictures taken.
Ryker Smith split off with his buddies. They decided to depart.
Lance walked past Gianni on the way to his Jeep Wrangler. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Waiting on my ride,” replied the singer.
“Nah, cuz. I can drop you off wherever you’re going.”
“I live over in Ashford Hills,” he frowned at the mention of the working class neighborhood.
“That’s not far. Let’s go!”
Lance started the SUV. The dark chocolate senior with a debonair moustache looked at Gianni and said, “Gotta wait on Kobe.”
Gianni shook his head and sat back. He saw the peanut butter brown, 6’1” Kobe Diaz coming towards the vehicle. He could see that the guy was shredded underneath the button down shirt. He remembered seeing the junior shirtless once after a football game - the body was on point. He twitched in his seat.
“Wassup y’all,” Kobe asked as he jumped in the front passenger seat.
“We gotta drop off Gee back there,” Lance stated.
“Bet,” Kobe replied.
“You wanna hang with us before you go home,” Lance inquired. “We’re going to Ryker’s house.”
“I mean that’s cool. I don’t have a curfew or anything,” Gianni revealed.
“It’s a plan. Just gotta stop by my house real quick.”
Gianni took in the impressive Greek Revival house. ‘These folks got money,’ he thought. ‘I’ll be like them some day.’
When they arrived at the residence, Mason was already there. Ryker was ordering pizza and wings for later. Lance pulled out a bottle of gin he’d swiped from his parents’ liquor cabinet. He poured a glass for everyone.
They hung out in the sleek kitchen. Gianni asked if anyone else needed more ice. He took the cups to the fridge. He had to step past Lance.
Lance didn’t move his leg.
“I’m sorry,” Gianni apologized.
“You’re cool,” Lance grinned while staring intently. “You know he sang the hell outta that song, man!”
“Thanks!”
“No problem. I gotta tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, oh, oh,” Kobe hopped around the room.
“What, nigga,” Ryker admonished.
“Lance about to tell Gee what’s up.”
“For real,” checked Mason.
“I don’t see why not,” snapped Lance.
“Tell me what,” Gianni inquired.
“Uhhhh,” Lance dawdled.
“Just say it, bruh,” Ryker told him.
“Gee,” Lance cleared his throat. “Everybody at school thinks you have the baddest body.”
“Yeah,” Kobe emoted as he and Ryker slapped hands.
Mason added, “Guys and girls.”
“Seriously,” Gianni blushed.
“Yep,” Lance confirmed.
“I had no idea,” the effeminate guest shared.
“You for real,” Kobe shot back. “You know that ass is massive. And niggas like ass!”
“That’s a fact,” Mason chuckled.
“I guess I know some men find it attractive,” relented Gianni.
“You should let us fuck you, Gee,” Lance suggested.
All four golfers surrounded him. They fondled his abundant booty. Their heavy breathing created a sauna around him. He could smell the designer cologne and manliness. “I think y’all are cute and all.”
“Just cute,” Ryker asked.
“Well, handsome. But, I’ve never had a train run on me,” admitted Gianni.
“Don’t you want to,” Lance pressed.
“Have another drink,” instructed Kobe.
“Sure. I’ve thought about it before,” Gianni gave in.
“The bathroom is the third door on the right. And the guest bedroom is at the end of the hall on the right. You can go on and freshen up,” Ryker explained.
Gianni headed down the hallway of the California Rambler style house. He found a towel set and box of disposable douches. The team had planned this. He cleaned out his pussy hole and went into the bedroom. There was a big container of petroleum jelly on the nightstand. He lubed his rectum.
“Be bent over the corner of the bed,” yelled Lance.
“Face down. Ass up,” Mason commanded.
Gianni put his head on the bed. He spread his feet slightly apart. He heard them enter the room.
Ryker announced he was going first. “Put those legs together,” he ordered. He squeezed and massaged the big booty in front of him. He slid the G-string to the side. He stuffed his beige 8-inch dick in the little brown hole. “Oh shit! It’s tight y’all! Take this dick, you faggit!”
Gianni wailed, “Owwwww! Be gentle.”
“Shut up,” Ryker barked. “Take it!”
“Oh, god! Fuck me!”
Ryker pounded furiously. “You got some good pussy.” He jackhammered the bottom and pulled out to cum on his back.
Mason Rosser went next. He a dusky yellow complexion which darkened easily in the sun. His cock stuck out and had a downward hook. He put it in.
Gianni purred, “Yeah, baby! Fuck me!”
“Dammit, boi! You’re a real bitch!”
“You like this big ass booty.”
“Yeah,” Mason grunted and removed his member right before nutting.
Kobe stepped up to the plate. He thrust inside with no hesitation. “I been wantin’ to fuck you for a minute,” he confessed. “Take my dick, fag!”
“Gimme that dick,” purred Gianni
“That’s right, sissy boi! Throw that ass back on this dick!”
“Fuck me!”
“Make you my side chick!”
“Oh my god, Kobe! Fuck me!”
“Yeah, bitch!”
Kobe beat it up with his strong 8¼-inch tool. “You like this dick, bitch?”
“Yes sir!”
“This booty good!”
Kobe extracted his meat and shot his load on an old blanket put down specifically for that purpose.
Lance lined up behind the colossal ass. He slapped it and remarked, “You’re a sexy ass fat booty panty wearing bitch!”
“Thank you,” Gianni gyrated his fanny.
“I’m about to tear you up!”
“Oh, Lance!”
He entered the open hole with his 9-inch dick. He plunged in with reckless abandon. He played with the pliable cheeks as he dug out the boipussy.
“Damn, nigga,” cooed Gianni. “Fuck me!”
“Hell yeah, sissy! This pussy is fire!”
“Give it to me, Lance!”
“Ooh wee!”
“I love that dick, boo!”
“This fag pussy is gripping my dick so good. You’d make me marry you in prison!”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah! Everybody would know I was fucking your phat ass!”
“Yes, sir! Pound this pussy!”
“That good boipussy,” Lance added.
Lance was nearing orgasm. He pulled out and jerked off shooting jizz on Gianni’s back.
“Stay right here,” Ryker decreed. “We’ll be back for round two. Then we’ll get you a car back home.”
“Yes, sir! May I have some water?”
“Okay, but drink a little more liquor first,” Ryker negotiated.
“You got it,” the obedient sissy agreed.
“I’ll be right back with it.”
Gianni drank the gin and cranberry juice. Then he gulped down the water as he waited on the Negroes to return.
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